After enduring years of abuse, Laura South decided it had to stop

Nobody should have to take abuse, in whatever form, from anyone, including parents. This year, after years and years of verbal, physical and emotional abuse from my mother, I decided to call it a day. I no longer speak to, hear from or see my mother.

The fact that my mother has made no attempt to contact me since our last conversation is probably enough to justify my decision, although I have many more reasons in my arsenal as to why I'm not speaking to her than just her indifference towards me.

The abuse goes as far back to as I can remember, and from the age of around five I was terrified of my mother. My earliest memories are not of being comforted when crying, but of being told 'if you don't shut up I'll give you something to cry for.' And often she did, by pulling me around by my hair or repeatedly hitting me across the head. I spent much of my younger years flinching, locking myself in the bathroom until my dad came home and developing a range of psychosomatic conditions, such as not being able to swallow or go to the toilet when she was around.

One incident that has stayed in my mind was when I was at primary school : I lost my hat and was so terrified of being shouted at that I hid in the cloakroom while everyone else left the school.

But maybe even more damaging were her vitriolic words. For at least 10 years my mother used psychological warfare to terrorise me. There was a continuous onslaught of insults: I was no good, if my father knew what I was really like, he wouldn't love me, I was a slut. My crime? Existing. I didn't have to do anything to set her off, because everything was about her - her moods, her frustration with life, her anger at the world. I was her emotional and physical punch bag.

In recent years, any conversation with my mother, in an attempt to make sense of her behaviour, is cut short by the reply: 'It's all water under the bridge.' But it's not and never can be, because every time I see her, I'm still the terrified five-year-old waiting to be physically or verbally abused. And I can see in her face that although she's 65 the anger and resentment is still bubbling away. Ironically, it is this same fear that prevents me having a confrontation with her now. It is safer not to speak. Something I learnt from a very young age.

And if I needed any more proof that my mother will never change, I only have to look at how she is with my son, Ben. It certainly is a case of history repeating itself. There is a constant litany of criticism levelled at him, as if Ben sets out with one aim in mind - to annoy his granny. Ben is four years old. And behind the words is a hand itching to be used.

Some would argue that breaking away from a parent is psychologically damaging. But it's far more damaging to stay put. Nowadays, nobody is expected to be in a relationship with a partner that is harmful, uncaring or generally unfulfilling. So why tolerate that from a family member? Parental love should be the one love that is unconditional.

I have had to accept that my mother is never going to change and face up to the loss. In a way, it's grieving before she's died. If you keep going back to the abuser, hoping they've changed to become the person you've always wanted - and some people go on doing this until the person dies - then you'd end up very upset and disappointed. In other words, there's no end to it.

My decision to not ever see my mother again has brought the relief that, I no longer have to pretend that she loves me and I love her, but also a sadness that it has to be this way. But for the sake of my sanity there really couldn't have been a different ending.

Do you have a difficult relationship with your mother? Join in the discussions about bullying and abuse on the Exploring Abuse message board.